


First Year Diary Of A Demigod

by nimbus2k2



Series: Diary Of A Demigod [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimbus2k2/pseuds/nimbus2k2
Summary: Hello fellow demigods!Well, this is not actually a diary. To be more accurate, it's a transcription of some of my stories that I want to share with you. I know some of you would never wanted to be a half-blood, so I hope this help you find your life as one not so bad after all.Good luck to you!
Series: Diary Of A Demigod [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808368
Kudos: 1





	1. My Extraordinary Background

I had always been an extraordinary kid. To be straight, "extraordinary" is an understatement, and I'd been dealing with my divergence for roughly ten years of my life. My name is Ellen Johnson. I was about to turn ten in September.

I was living in Orlando, Florida with my dad, my step-mom and my older step-brother. My mom? To be honest, I didn't remember much about her. She mysteriously disappeared when I had barely turned three, and was never seen again. For the following two years, dad brought me up as a single parent, until he met my step-mom. She had already had a nine-year-old son then, but she treated me as her own child. I grew up loving my family very much although we were not related in blood. Anyway I had never stopped thinking about my real mother.

At a young age, I had known there was something unusual about my mom. Even dad didn't know much about her life before they met each other. She had no living relatives. My memories of her mostly consisted of bits and pieces of her caring for me. Cradling me in her arms, encouraging me whenever I fell learning to walk, or taking my hand showing me how to hold a pencil. To me the most vivid recollection among them was her eyes. Mom's eyes were startling gray, gray as the clouds on a rainy day. They were nothing near gloomy but perpetually sparkling with warmth and affection. Of course there were other people with gray eyes out there, but the rarity of the eye colour was not the reason I recalled them so perfectly. Mom's eyes were impressive because they were… well, different. They radiated some kind of power, the ancient and majestic type. I subconsciously knew that her stare could be as icy and intimidating as an advancing storm, though she never looked at me that way.

When I mentioned this to my dad, he pulled out the family album. The album was crammed, but only a few pics were of mom during the years she was still with us. Dad said he regretted not taking more photos of her, because she was exceptionally beautiful. Flipping through the old shots he showed me, there was no way denying it. Mom looked stunning with her gray eyes, exactly as I remembered, and her long, dark stream of hair flowing down her back or shoulders. Her exterior features didn't show up much on me. In fact I had dad's Asian complexion: light skin, dark hair and dark brown eyes. I wondered a lot about how I would look with eyes like mom's. Pretty sure I could scare the hell out of the bullies at my old school with one glare alone. Out of mom's pictures, I really liked the one with her standing under an olive tree smiling at the camera, dressed casually in flannel shirt, trucker jacket, jeans and combat boots. Dad let me keep the photo, so I always had it tucked in my pocket as an amulet, and as a memento.

Though we didn't have much in common in appearance, I inherited her other traits. Dad gave me the weird nickname "gray cell" as a way to confirm it.

"Dad, why must it be "gray cell"? You can call me "brightest witch" instead."

My chosen nickname represented my Harry Potter mania at the time, and my favorite character from the series was Hermione Granger. It wasn't strange, she was one of the best fictional role models ever. Dad just chuckled.

"Because, Ellen," he ruffled my hair, "you are like part of your mother's gray cells. You're very smart. Besides her courage and independence also descended to you. You resemble her more than you think."

Any remark he made about mom raised my curiosity. I would bombard him with questions whenever he let slip a chance. The most frequently asked was: "Where had she gone to? Why hasn't she come back to us?" Every time I would receive the same answer:

"It was mid-summer. A storm approached the neighborhood. When the authority declared the state of emergency, your mom was outside for work. The storm lasted for several hours. I assumed she had taken shelter somewhere, then would drive home when the situation picked up. But she didn't. We lost her."

Not once had dad ever used the word "die". You might think that was because he wanted to pretend that mom had never gone, or he kept mourning her even after years.

So far my life sounds not so unusual, right? Absolutely not. That was it for the "normal". Here comes the extraordinary part.

As I had already told you, my mother was eccentric. Dad's stories about her were not, but I was clever enough to know he hadn't told me everything. I just wasn't able to relate those stories with my memories even though the latter were merely fragments. I know, that sounds daft. Here's something more sensible: mom couldn't have vanished without a trace. Not just physically, but also existentially. According to my research, there was no information about her among the casualties of that year's storm. Even my family's friends had almost forgotten her; they automatically regarded my step-mother as my blood mother (not that she minded too much). When I reminded them, they resigned to the storm incident as the apparent truth. To the folks apart from my family members, mom was nothing more than a lost memory.

The acquaintance with the supernatural must run in the blood. Weird things kept happening to me. When I was five, I was attacked while hanging around all alone in my gran's garden, by my worst nightmare. Spiders. Not the tiny brown spiders often residing in the corners of houses (they are no less hideous anyway), but a whole swarm of coin-sized ones with hairy legs and prickly pincers. By the time I got myself in the safety of the living room, cobwebs had stuck to every inch of my hair and clothes, and my legs were already dotted with bites. Fortunately they weren't poisonous. As I grew up, things became more serious, even dangerous. When I was in grade two, I was almost kidnapped by a werewolf right at school. How he managed to intrude the school, I didn't know. I survived to report to the teachers, but they didn't believe me. After that day, other kids treated me even more like a freak. At the end of the school year, my parents decided it would be better for me to move to another school.

Beside my family, no one sympathized with me except for my best friend, Celine. My only friend, to be exact. When I started grade three at Southwood last year, she was a newcomer as well. We had a lot in common. To name a few:  
\- ADHD. She had it slightly worse than me  
\- A missing parent  
\- Being underdogs at school  
\- An interest in art, but different types. She would fuss over a trip to Louvre, while I prefered going to Comic-Con.  
\- Most importantly, we both knew things other people didn't, and shared a knack for running into troubles.

Celine had no doubt when I opened up to her about my life. Surprisingly, she told me she had had a hard childhood just the same. No babysitters her mother hired could take care of her for a considerable time. One tried to drop her from the fifth floor when she was two, another gave her four stitches on the head. The decent ones kept experiencing weird things, so they were too scared to stay. Since she was old enough to start school, she had been a troubled kid. Last year was her second time transferring school. Expelled for defending herself against school bullies, resulting in a tyke's bruised arms and a few broken classroom facilities, whereas they received no punishment for using violence on her.

Ironically, what led to our friendship was a scuffle, thanks to the bullies. That day I was shutting myself in a stall of the restroom, hiding, because a jerk had put his pet tarantula in my locker. Who on earth wanted to keep that creature as a pet!? I sat there shaking from head to toe when there suddenly came a loud bang, as if someone just kicked the restroom door open. I heard voices, the first one was of a girl.

"I want to see it! Hand it to me!"

"Stay away! Hey, give it back!" A second voice, another girl but more feeble.

"Ew, it looks so cheap," a third one, a boy. Whatever he was doing, I knew one thing for sure: he wasn't allowed in the girls' restroom. "You won't need this anymore. I'll help get rid of it."

Another bang, this one right on the door of the stall where I was sitting, along with a yelp. The two bullies must have pushed the poor girl to the door, made it burst open.

A dark-haired girl of my age, possibly a new student, was curling up on the floor, rubbing her arm and shoulder that had come in contact with the door. I recognized the other two kids. They were siblings, the girl in grade five, the boy in grade four, who had made me a joke a few times. In the boy's hand was a pendant necklace he had just snatched from his victim. His sister pointed at me.

"Ah, the freak! What are you doing, hiding from-"

Not letting her finish, I threw a roll of toilet paper at her, one more roll at her brother. No kids at school helped me in all the times I dealt with bullies, and I didn't want it to be the same with the new girl.

"GIVE THAT BACK!" I jumped at the boy, reaching for the necklace.

He tried to grab me. I gave him a good kick in the side. While he was weeping in pain, the sister had me by the collar. I wriggled to get out, but she was much stronger than me.

"How dare you fight us! Mommy's going to hear about this! You're dead!"

Within seconds, she loosened her grip to hold her bloody nose. The dark-haired girl had thrown herself at her and punched her right in the face. She was still shouting and lunging at the bullies.

"LEAVE US ALONE!"

Strange noises echoed through the restroom. Then the sprinklers on the ceiling activated, though there was no sound of the fire alarm. The siblings screamed their heads off. Bawling and shielding themselves from the girl's feet and fists, they sprinted outside, leaving us and the pendant necklace. The girl hastily picked it up to check for any damage.

"Thank you for helping me get it back," she turned to me, "I'm Celine. I'm new here."

"I'm Ellen. Thank you for, er, scaring them away. Why do they want your necklace?"

"It belongs to my dad. They tease me because my dad is no longer around. He passed away when I was little."

"So that's why he said you wouldn't need it?"

She nodded. "It's the only thing of dad I have."

The pendant was a piece of coral. I told her not to mind what the bullies said, because it was actually very lovely. She let me take a look. I saw a name carved on it, Leoni.

"My family name. I am a bit of French on the maternal side. Corsican. I have been bullied at my old school because my name is strange too."

Our conversation could have lasted longer, but was cut short as we were summoned to the principal's office. The bullies had already been there, still sobbing. All four of us, scratched and bruised, drenched to the skin, received a week suspension for fighting in school. As for the sprinklers, it was attributed to mechanical problems. It wasn't too dreadful for Celine and me, though. We spent the week getting to know each other, and had been best friends ever since. When we returned to school, no kids tried to pick fight with us anymore. It didn't mean that the insults had ceased, but we didn't care as long as the brats kept a distance. It was her and me against the world.

However, school bullies were a minor problem compared to other situations Celine and I encountered outside school. We tried our best to stay away from trouble, but troubles kept finding us. Little did we know that they hinted dramatic changes ahead, the explanation to our extraordinary lives.


	2. The Year-End Celebration

Still reading? Then you are like me, otherwise you wouldn't be able to read all this. Welcome to my world. From now on, things are getting tougher for you, so be prepared and seek help as soon as possible.

Remember what I mentioned about a dramatic change? It happened on the final day of my fourth grade. You will eventually experience something alike sooner or later, so this will be useful as beforehand mental preparation. So, ready?

In Southwood Elementary, the final day of school was for the recap of the remarkable events of the school year and saying goodbye to the seniors as they moved up to middle school. This year, the countdown had started seven days prior to the year-end celebration. The teachers let us enjoy this final week hanging out with friends before heading into summer holiday.

We received gifts for our progress and watched the year recap video in class. I got myself the title "Passionate Artist" and a new box of paints for showing more interest than the others in art periods. When done, we were gathered outside for the seniors' graduation ceremony. I craned my neck to get a view over the troop of heads in the packed hallway leading to the school yard, searching for Celine. However, I was blocked by an unmistakable simper.

"Ah, Ellen. I've been looking for you."

I had a fervent wish to smack its owner. There came the terror to all the nine-year-olds in Southwood - Ms. Quills the substitutional Math teacher.

Our official Math teacher, who was very nice, had taken maternity leave at the end of last school year, and this year Ms. Quills took over. The students called her Ms. Vampire cause she definitely looked and acted like one. Couldn't understand why she got herself to be a teacher; she loathed children. All students deeply resented her in return, but Celine and I had been in her bad books because I accidentally hit her with a crumpled paper ball while deflecting many others, as our classmates were throwing stuff at each other in a chaotic class fight. Since then she was determined to make our hours at school miserable.

Ms. Quills veered me from the students milling around in the hallway, into an empty classroom and closed the door behind her back.

"It's time I got our business done," she put on an affected smile, which made me want to puke.

I saw where this was going. She was going to frame me for some crime I didn't do. Again. For heaven's sake, it was the last day of the school year, couldn't she just give me a break?

"I didn't do anything. Whatever it is, it was _not_ my fault."

"Oh, of course you didn't," she swatted her hand nonchalantly, "I simply want to clear the tension that has been going on all year."

Ms. Vampire kept closing the distance, and I kept stepping back to stay away from her. Before I realized, she had me cornered.

"Is it about that paper ball? I swear it was an accident. And all the things you thought I did, it wasn't me." 

"What? No!" She burst out laughing, "what I mean is, you are the tension. You and your little friend. Give me a real headache. I have had to put up with it to be sure about you both. Now I am certain."

"Be sure about _what_? What are you talking about?"

I thought she must have gone insane to start babbling nonsense like that, but what happened next was beyond my wildest imagination.

Right in front of my eyes, Ms. Quills... _transformed_. Normally she was a rather beautiful, but scary woman with inhumanly pale skin and a constant spiteful face. Her skin turned even paler, her teeth grew into fangs, her eyes glowed fiery red, her hair burst into flames. I thought she was a deformed hybrid of a _real_ vampire and Human Torch, until I saw her legs. One was a furry animal hindleg, one was solid bronze, both ridiculous in black heels. The only thing remained the same was the sickly sweet voice.

"I favour boys over girls, but you two will be equally good, especially your friend. Now, where is she?"

I couldn't tell what in the world she was, but it was obvious she didn't just hate me, she wanted to _kill_ me. And Celine. I didn't think a stupid paper ball could build up to this. Frozen with fear, the only thought in my mind was to get out alive, for the sake of me and my best friend.

Then my instincts took over. I didn't know where I got the strength from. I felt it surging through my veins, waking every cell into battle mode. Honestly, I didn't even recognize what I was doing. A chair went flying straight to Ms. Quills' face, definitely not as gentle as paper balls. She didn't expect me to retaliate, buying me more time to dash to the exit hysterically screaming for help. I crashed into Celine at the door.

"Where have you been? The teachers sent me to look for y-"

She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes fixed on the sight of Ms. Quills. She went wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Is that… Ms. Vampire?"

Ms. Quills was struggling to get back on her feet. The chair had irritated her. Her eyes met Celine's.

"There you are! I was going to use _her_ to lure you out," she pointed a finger at me, "I guess it isn't necessary. Don't worry, I'll make this quick for both of you." She bared her fangs in a malicious smile.

"RUN!"

Without Celine's cue, I would have torn through the length of the hallway next to her anyway, as I was doing now. We dared not to look back, just focusing on putting as much distance as possible between us and Ms. Vampire. We darted into a classroom, where Mr. Walters, the History teacher and two fourth graders were sorting out the content of the Lost and Found box. You know, where the lost properties stayed until their owners came to retrieve them, or until they were donated to local charities.

"Coming for your lost stuff?" Mr. Walters held the box up but lowered it back down upon seeing our expression, "are you OK? You two look like you've seen a ghost."

Not a ghost, but close. Yeah, we were OK, we just found out we had a monster on her way to kill us for a teacher! I wanted to shout at them, to tell them go and hide, but words came out of my mouth as stutters.

"We… Ms. Quills…she's a vampire… she's coming to get us!"

Mr. Walters sighed, "that's not funny, Ellen. It's not respectful saying such things about your teacher, even if you don't like her."

I couldn't care less about respect to that _creature_! The more serious thing right now was that she would probably suck out our blood for lunch!

"Why is she finding you anyway?" Mr. Walters poked his head out to the hallway.

"No, don't! We must get out of here! And call the police!" Celine pulled him away from the door.

"Okay okay, just… calm down! Nobody is out there. See? Celine, that hurts."

She let go of his arm, murmuring "sorry". I ran to the door and scanned the hallway. Ms. Quills was nowhere to be seen.

"So if you aren't here to check the Lost and Found box, I suggest you go with your classmates."

Mr. Walters escorted Celine and me outside in the yard where everyone was. At least it would be harder for her to find us in the crowd. Then it struck me, _what if she does harm to the students and staff_?

"I don't see her," Celine looked around nervously, "I don't think we can hide from her for long. Should we come up with something to excuse ourselves from the ceremony?"

Before we could make out an escape plan, a hand grabbed our arms, so fast that we didn't have even a second to react. The new arrival pulled us behind the row of sunflower pots, close enough to blend in the crowd and far enough to not be eavesdropped.

"Are you hurt? Do you know where she is?"

"Ashton? How did you get in here?"

I had known Ashton Raymond for only three weeks at most. He wasn't a resident in my neighborhood. I guessed he came from another state to pay a visit to his relatives. I didn't know exactly who his relatives were, but they lived a few streets away from my house, quite near to Celine's. Ashton must be a high schooler. He was a head taller than me, lanky and curly-haired, always wore baggy jeans and a beanie. When describing him to Celine, I often said he looked like a street dancer with such fashion. I hadn't had the chance to ask him about it. All the times I ran into him, I just got to know his name and where he lived. Aside from going to the grocery, he rarely went out. So it was a surprise that he showed up at my school worrying about my safety.

"I walked in," Ashton answered matter-of-factly, "your teacher, where has she gone to?"

Seriously, what was the matter with elementary schools' security? Ashton somehow passed a bunch of security cameras without being caught. When he searched for us in the crowd, other people seemed to take no notice of him.

"I don't know," I stared at him, still puzzled at his arrival, "wait, you know about her?"

"I know she's after you two. You're in danger."

"Why?" Celine and I spoke in unison.

"I promise I'll explain later. We need to leave. Now."

"But how? The teachers won't allow us to leave school before the ceremony ends." Celine pointed out.

"We'll sneak out through the side entrance. I'll get you out the way I get in."

Ashton took something looking like tiny flutes glued together and began playing a hypnotic tune. He furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating hard. Celine and I exchanged glances.

"Eh… what are you doing?"

He didn't answer me until he finished the tune. "That will do. The Mist will shroud us from the eyes of mortals. They can't see us, but she still can, so keep your heads down and stay close to me."

"The _what_? Did you just say 'mortals'?"

"Not now. I told you I'll explain later. Come on."

We threaded our way through the yard. Whatever Ashton did, it seemed to be working. We had become _invisible_ to the occupants of Southwood's school yard, as long as we didn't crash into anyone. We managed to get out of the crowd and headed for the side entrance, separated from the yard by a block of classrooms.

"Going somewhere?"

Ashton came to a halt, spread out his arms to shield Celine and me. Ms. Quills was standing between us and the gate.

"Leaving the school without teachers' permission," she clicked her tongue, "with an intruder. Interesting." She threw Ashton a disgusting look. "Well, I have no choice but to punish you."

"Your place is not here. Sod off back to Tartarus." Ashton growled.

"Protector, stay out of my way so I can finish them off," Ms. Quills threatened, "or face the same consequence."

"Over my dead body."

In a flash Ashton took out his flutes and started playing a quick-paced tune. The ground cracked, and from the fissures green leafy vines shot up towards Ms. Quills. She avoided them very fast considering her mismatched legs, and lunged at Ashton. The instrument was knocked out of his hands. He struck her hard in the middle with his sports kicks. The blow must have been extremely forceful, as Ashton's right foot was bent at a painful angle. He didn't even wince. While Ms. Quills was busy doubling over, he kicked off the sneaker, revealing a goat hoof.

"You don't know your limits, do you? Stupid satyr. You can continue to protect them in hell as you wish."

Ms. Quills lunged again. This time she was faster. She had Ashton by the neck, pinned him to a tree stump. I just stood there watching in panic. I didn't know what to do.

"I'll kill you after I'm done with them. I'll make you watch them die. To remind you how pathetically you failed."

Suddenly Ms. Quills shrieked in pain like a banshee. A pointed tree branch as wide as my wrist sprouted from her right shoulder. Celine was behind her, both hands firmly gripped its other end. I realized it was from the vines Ashton rose from the earth with his flutes.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Ashton struck another kick at Ms. Quills' face, sending her a few feet away. He picked up the flutes and continued playing. The vines crept up around Ms. Quills, tightened their wrap regardless of her thrusting to get out. Seconds later, she exploded into a wave of dust, topping three of us with a layer of the flour-like substance.

Celine was still dazzled. She sank down on her knees, grasping her head with both hands.

"Oh my god… We _killed_ her! We _killed_ a _person_! What are we gonna do? I don't want to go to jail!"

Ashton dusted his clothes and put the sneaker back on. "You are not going to jail. We are not going to jail. They only send you there for killing a man. She's an empousa."

I found my voice back. "Is she dead?"

"Her lot don't die. Look, I know you have a lot of questions," Ashton helped Celine to her feet, "but I'm not sure she's the only one. There may be more empousai around. Let's get you guys home first."

***  
The moment we appeared at the doorstep looking like we just emerged from the baker's workshop, dad rushed over to check on me. Apart from some minor cuts, Celine and I were safe and sound, thanks to Ashton's vines. After receiving his call from the payphone outside my school, my parents immediately drove home from work knowing something was wrong. My step-mom took care of us while dad and Ashton talked in the kitchen. Isabella, our tabby, curiously watched her while she put Band Aids on the cuts and made us some ginger tea. I only had a few gulps before she ushered us into the kitchen.

"Sit down, you two," dad told Celine and me, "Ellen, it's time we tell you the truth. Your step-mom and I hoped to keep it from you as long as possible. What happened today… our protection alone isn't enough anymore."

We sat opposite to him at the dining table. Ashton was leaning against the sink, holding his cup of ginger tea. Isabella curled up in a spot between him and the fridge.

Dad cleared his throat. "We should start with your mother. I know it's hard to accept this, but please, listen."

Finally dad was talking about the mystery with mom. But the way he put it made me worry. What if I would be better off without the truth? However, once again my curiosity won. I nodded at him.

"She wasn't lost in a storm."

His sentence hit me like a thunderbolt. For years I had been the only one to suspect mom's disappearance. Now dad had just verified that I had been right all along. I was too shocked to say anything. The kitchen became awkwardly quiet.

"We're sorry we had to lie to you. To keep you safe," my step-mom broke the congealed silence.

"I KNEW IT!" I slapped on the table triumphantly, clattering the teacups and startling Isabella, "that means she's still alive, isn't she?"

Ashton, who had been enjoying his tea, butted in. "Ever wonder why you regularly get involved in peculiar things? Know about things other folks don't?"

"Yes. But, dad, what actually happened to mom?"

"What Ashton is saying is, you are special," he took a deep breath. "Because your mother is a goddess."

I stared at him, at my step-mom, then at Ashton in bewilderment. None of them seemed surprised.

"You too, Celine dear," my step-mom announced her, "your blood is also half-divine, although we haven't yet know who you got it from."

Judging from Celine's expression, she was just as baffled as I am. Okay, I had to be dreaming of all this.

"Wait wait," I raised my hand, "am I hearing-impaired, or are you saying that we are children of gods?"

"Yes, you are demigods, half-blood children of them. The Greek ones, to be precise," Ashton was scratching under Isabella's chin, "remember them from your lessons at school?"

"We do. We both read all Greek mythology ages ago. So, if the gods are real and have kids with normal people, how can you be so sure that Ellen and I are among them?" Celine demanded.

"You both reek." Ashton answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"We, uh… smell?"

"That's why we satyrs can identify you among the mortals. And why monsters can locate you. Now that you know you're demigods, your scent gets stronger."

"Satyrs," I remember Ashton's hoof, "like, companion of the wine god Dionysus?"

"Uh huh," he removed both sneakers, his jeans and his beanie. Beside goat legs, he had a pair of horns poking out in the curly hair. "We have different ways to disguise ourselves."

"So you're not here to visit your relatives."

Ashton chortled. "Of course not. I have been lingering around to watch over you two. Her scent is stronger," he eyed Celine, "so I chose to stay nearer to her."

"Ms. Quills started paying attention to us just three months after the beginning of our school year, since Ellen accidentally slapped that paper ball at her. Why does she have to wait until today to kill us?"

The sentences barely came out Celine's mouth before I swatted away a fridge magnet aimed at me. It bounced off the dish cupboard and clattered to the floor. Turning around, I saw Ashton had scooted closer to the fridge.

"What was that for!?"

"Like that?" Ashton picked the magnet up, "she must have noticed your reflexes. Your ADHD enhances your alertness on the battlefield."

I got it. That explained why I was able to lift a chair and throw it at Ms. Quills.

"But even with that and the scent, she wasn't fully sure you are half-bloods until this morning." His voice sounded guilty, "I think it was my fault. Perhaps she spotted me snooping around in the crowd to look for you."

"No, it wasn't," Celine and I disagreed. "But you owe us an explanation. Starting with how myths turn out to be true. You promised."

Ashton came to sit next to my dad, "the truth is crazy, but you deserve it. OK, listen up."

For the first time in ten years of my life, everything made sense. My weirdness, my experiences, everything. Ashton gave us a brief sum-up of how Olympus was currently on the six hundredth floor of the Empire State Building; how the Mist twisted mortals' sight by replacing what were normal to our world with things they could comprehend; how monsters were still lurking around, that they could be killed but never died. The more I listened, the more it dawned on me. 

"Being a half-blood is not easy," Ashton ended his speech, "young ones like you need proper training to protect yourself. There is a place that can prepare demigods for such an, well, exciting life."

My parents encouraged me, "Ellen, you're a big girl now. It's time you learn to take care of yourself. We are happy to know you will be in safe hands."

And that was how Celine and I got to spend our summer vacation at a camp for the children of Greek gods.


	3. The World's Best Camp Ever

On the tenth day of my summer vacation, I set off for Camp Half-Blood. With Celine and Ashton.

My parents and Ashton both agreed that we had to get to camp as soon as possible. Nevertheless, it took time to plan the itinerary from Orlando to New York carefully, not to mention booking flight tickets and researching bus routes to know which one to catch once we landed in New York.

I had never been to a summer camp before. My parents often told me it would be too risky for me to be out of their ward for too long, but I hadn't ever acknowledged the real reasons until this summer. Who knew, maybe a camp director could turn out to be some sort of blood-thirsty cyclop hunting for demigods.

In those ten days Celine and I took every chance to learn about Camp Half-Blood. We didn't do our research on the Internet, or _couldn't_. Any kind of technology would alert monsters of demigods' whereabouts. Anyway, I doubted that we would be able to find anything at all on Google. Mortals weren't aware of the camp's existence. Instead Ashton tossed us a copy of _Camp Half-blood Confidential_ , the official guidebook that would save us from watching Apollo's orientation video. Some of our questions were solved, but in turn tons of others popped up. We had been pestering Ashton, but he just responded with a mysterious grin, "you'll see once you get there. It'll be more fun to have it by yourself."

On the date of our departure, we took a bus to the airport first thing. Our parents came along to see us off.

"Contact me when you get there, will you?" Celine's mom kept repeating to her.

"I will. And l'll tell you when dad claims me," Celine promised her mother.

I had asked Celine how her mom reacted when Ashton broke the news to her about Celine's godly heritage. Turned out, she had known it all along. It was just that she didn't know exactly which deity her daughter's father was, unlike my dad, who had acknowledged my mom's true identity the day mom sent me to him. Gods don't often reveal themselves to their mortal spouses; in my dad's case, my appearance in his life was an inevitable revelation. If you are wondering, well, mom didn't actually stay with us. Poof, I was born, and sent to my dad. My memories of her upbringing, sadly, were a product of the Mist. That's one thing about being a half-blood. Your godly parent is absent from most of your life, only appear to you when there's something significant.

Celine was really looking forward to being claimed. _Camp Half-Blood Confidential_ stated nothing on the matter. I anticipated a test designed for new campers to show off their abilities, so that the gods and goddesses could recognize their children and claim them based on their performances. Rather similar to taking standardized exams to be admitted to universities. The application process indeed requires more than exam results… well, I reckon you understand what I'm trying to say here.

Excited as we were, the trip to Camp Half-Blood was not very pleasant. I had never been against traveling through long distances, but it was my first time ever without adults' accompany. My constant vigilance partly contributed to it too. Since I left my house in the morning I had been looking for signs of monsters. Ashton reassured me that he detected none with his satyr olfactory senses (yes, monsters have their stench). Still, I couldn't bring myself to get some rest during the flight though I hadn't slept well in ten days waiting. My ADHD didn't help. Celine was no better. We made origami figures from napkins in silence to stay put in our seats. After our touchdown in Long Island MacArthur Airport, when we were waiting for our luggage to rolled up on the conveyor belt, Ashton sniffed around cautiously.

"You suspect something?" I whispered gingerly. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Something covers the scent," he held his nose high.

Celine quickly surveyed our surroundings. "What should we do? Our bus won't arrive until another half an hour."

"Let's hope it's simply because there are too many people here."

The three of us swiftly scurried to a bench at the far end of the waiting zone, temporarily hidden behind a mob of chatty tourists. Good spot for keeping an eye on the whole area and remained inconspicuous simultaneously.

Nine-year-olds with ADHD wouldn't be very successful with staying discreet. After barely fifteen minutes sitting without much to do, Celine and I stood up and paced around the row of benches. I didn't plan to release some of my energy by bumping into a middle-aged woman holding a paper cup. The damage had been done; some of the liquid inside the cup spilled onto the front of my unzipped hoodie and T-shirt. I always loved coffee, but not in the form of a dark stain on my clothes, especially my favorite hoodie. The woman gave me a scold in some foreign tongue, French, maybe, while Ashton and I hung our heads and apologized in English. She seemed not to care much that we didn't understand half what she was saying, eventually left the scene grumbling angrily. I reached inside my backpack for a fresh shirt and headed for the restroom. Ashton instantly grabbed my shoulder and shook his head. He didn't want me to wander off alone, but he couldn't follow me to the ladies' restroom.

"Just a few minutes. I'll be right out when I'm done." I assured him.

"Be careful then."

I was quick to find myself an empty stall as the restroom wasn't too crowded. After changing, I couldn't wear the hoodie again. Hot coffee had splashed all over its breast. The pockets, where I stashed the napkin origami cranes, remained stainless. The sooner we got to camp, the sooner I could get my hoodie washed.

Just as I got out of the stall, I was thrown off balance from behind. My coffee stained hoodie was knocked out off my arm, lay a heap on the floor among the stranger's scattered bandeaux and bobby pins. The girl was a bit older than me, maybe eleven or twelve, sporting colorful pins in her chestnut hair.

"Oh no! Sorry!" She hastily picked my hoodie up and stuffed it in my arms, then collected her own hoodie and other belongings.

"Here you go. I'm sorry, I really must go now. My bus is here." She said before sprinting outside, left me no chance to reply. I decided to just go back to my friends to wait for the bus.

Traveling by New York bus was the worst part of the trip. The estimated time to get to camp was supposed to be under an hour. In fact it took us triple that amount, thanks to the terrible rush hour traffic of New York. That wasn't all, we even got to play tag with some unidentifiable creatures in the woods around camp. By the time we crossed the camp borders, we could have been able to collapse from the tiredness.

Having read about camp beforehand, I gasped at the view in front of my eyes. Exhausting eight hours of traveling proved worthy after all. Camp Half-Blood was truly breathtaking compared to the heart of New York at rush hours. The spot where we were standing was on Half-Blood Hill, one of the hilltops surrounding an assortment of Greek architectures. I recognized many of them from the map included in _Camp Half-Blood Confidential_ , and perceived that the map couldn't capture all the atmosphere here. The buildings gleamed different tints in the sunset based on their outer adornment. A breeze rustled the woods and the strawberry fields. In the distance, the Long Island sea glittered golden just like the sky. Campers were in the middle of their afternoon activities, filled the lake, the archery range, the arena with animation. Any other summer camp, even all those art summer camps I longed for but never got to attend, was mediocre compared to Camp Half-Blood.

Celine and I were too engrossed in its appeal to notice two campers, boy and girl, had been striding towards us. They looked old enough to be senior campers, both wearing orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirts.

"Isn't it Ashton Raymond! How was everything?" The boy initiated the conversation. He was tall and tanned, his blonde hair was unkempt from archery practice. And he had distinctive gray eyes.

"We make it here alive, as you can see. Thank the gods we didn't run into anything dangerous, aside from a little game of chase just a few minutes ago," Ashton turned to us, "Celine, Ellen, meet the Camp Counselors."

"Welcome to camp! Ellen, right?" The girl with wavy black hair and emerald green eyes enthusiastically introduced herself, "I'm an Ellen too! Lou Ellen, Head Counselor of Cabin Twenty."

"I'm Malcolm, Head Counselor of Cabin Six," the boy gave a friendly smile, "you look like you need recharging."

The two Counselors led Celine and me to the cabin of the yet to be claimed demigods, where we would stay until getting claimed legitimately. Dumping my backpack next to a bunk bed, I unpacked my hoodie to have it washed, then realized something wasn't right.

This was not my hoodie. The same navy blue color, but no coffee stain. The embroidered calico cats on the breast had gone. Inside the pockets, instead of napkin cranes, there was a small stuffed polecat key chain. Then I remembered. That girl in the airport's restroom had mixed my hoodie up with hers. My favorite hoodie had gone for good, and there was nothing I could do about it.

The conch horn blew minutes after Celine and I finished cleaning up ourselves, indicating dinnertime. Malcolm walked us to the dining pavilion, where campers were filing in white clothed tables.

"Since you both haven't been claimed, you are free to choose whichever table you want to sit."

"Ah, about that," I explained, "I already know who my godly parent is. I'm just curious, how long will it take her to claim me?"

Malcolm didn't answer right away. He was focusing on something equal to his eye level.

"Not for long. Actually, look."

I hardly averted my gaze following his when an owl swooped down and landed on my instinctively held out arm. The owl weighed like a cluster of cloud with ginger feathers. I felt the gentle talons grasping the skin of my forearm. Two glowing sapphire orbs watched me attentively. Looking deep into those eyes, I almost felt my mother's presence, as if she was standing right in front of me. I stared and stared, for how long I couldn't make sense of, until the owl flapped its wings and disappeared in a nimbus of glimmering silver light.

Athena, the goddess of wisdom, warfare and handicrafts, had claimed me as her child.

"Cheers to our new sister!" Malcolm clapped, and table six applauded in response.

My cabin mates passionately shook my hands, patted my shoulders or gave my hair a ruffle while introducing themselves. They drew apart to spare some space in the middle of our table, and I dragged Celine along. I was one of the youngest of Cabin Six. My half-siblings were mostly above thirteen, with the exception of me and three other kids. I lost count of the number of gray eyes among them. 

"What a gorgeous owl you got," complimented fourteen-year-old Sonia, "mine was a barn owl with amber eyes."

"Did mom send each of you a different owl?"

Malcolm sat down next to her. "Indeed. Athena sometimes sends her children guidance in the form of her sacred animal, and as you know, for claiming. The owls vary with each child."

Sonia cried out loud, "our cabin has the best claiming!"

"Quit boasting. We all know Apollo's claiming was top at camp!" Someone bellowed from table seven.

It was certainly a common occurrence, as the dining pavilion was filled with laughter.

"The owl is so cool! I hope my dad will send me a cute animal too," said Celine wistfully.

"Had he shown you any sign?" Fifteen-year-old Alex asked.

Celine shook her head. "Not yet. Ashton said I have a strong scent. Which means my dad is among the most powerful gods."

Malcolm mused. "Possible. I overheard Ashton speaking to Chiron about you, 'for the first time in thirty two years of my life I come across one'."

"What, he's thirty two!? I thought he was sixteen!" I glanced over table twelve, where Ashton was talking to the camp director, Mr. D, or Dionysus.

"Oh, he hasn't told you? Mortals' aging speed is twice as fast as satyrs'. He's still a teenager. Fancy some baked potatoes?"

While we were chatting, the nymphs had brought over the food. The delicious smell made me realize how hungry I was. I imitated the others, ordered iced lemonade to fill my empty goblet.

"Come, Ellen," my siblings stood up and grabbed their plates, "let's burn some offerings as a thank-you to mom, shall we?"

Campers gathered around the fire in the center of the pavilion and scraped a portion on their plates into the fire. I inched nearer to the flames and dropped a plump ripe strawberry. "Athena," I murmured under my breath, "mom, it's me. Thank you for, um, everything so far. I really like my owl."

The strawberry shriveled in the fire, but the smoke smelled nothing like a burnt strawberry. My nose caught a waft of freshly baked bread and chocolate cookies, a whiff of coffee, a hint of herbal tea and strangely, the smell of old books and fresh laundry. And many other scents that I won't list all out because it will take too long. All the goodness in the world in one breath.

While eating, my cabin mates willingly answered Celine's and my load of eager questions. There was a lot to learn about Camp Half-Blood and about being a demigod.

"Remember how Athena was born by Zeus?" Malcolm was explaining how Athena could have half-blood children when she had sworn chastity. "The same way goes for us. We are a combination of mom's divine thoughts and the intellect of our mortal parents."

"You mean, we are pieces of her mind? Okay, that explains my nickname. My father calls me 'gray cell'."

Celine goggled at us in bewilderment. "Wow, you're her brain children. Literally. Divine mind material." She poked my cheek.

The whole table six giggled. Sonia wiped away a tear in the corner of her eyes, "and mortal blood, flesh and bones. Believe me, Athena's kids get odd questions about that all the time."

When the last bits of desserts had disappeared from the plates, Chiron the centaur, activities director, grabbed campers' attention by pounding his hooves. Mr. D reluctantly stood up to make a speech.

"Well, hello to all of you brats. I'm not the slightest interested, but it's my duty to announce to you we have three new campers today. Er, what are their names again?"

Chiron picked up the speech. "Welcome Kathryn Laurenz, Ellen Johnson and Celine Leoni to Camp Half-Blood."

The pavilion exploded with cheers, with table six and table twenty being the loudest. I couldn't make out the newcomer of Hecate's cabin in such tumult.

"Yes, we're glad to have you, blah blah. Enjoy your time here while you can. Carry on," Mr. D waved his hand indifferently.

After Iris-messaging our parents, Celine and I followed Malcolm as he showed us around camp. After visiting the strawberry fields, we reached the forty-feet tall ivory figure of mom, all regal and serene, standing guard the camp's borders - the Athena Parthenos.

"...that was the end of the rivalry between us Greek and our Roman friends," Malcolm finished the tale of the statue's arrival two years ago.

'Whoever sculpted this was a genius," I showed him the memento photo. "It _really_ looks like mom, isn't it?"

"An owl, huh? I half expected you to be our second new member." Lou Ellen appeared from thin air, making me jump.

Malcolm sighed. "Can you stop doing that?"

"Just showing her what our cabin can do with the Mist," she cocked her head to the girl behind her.

Trailing after Lou Ellen was the third new camper of the day, Kathryn Laurenz, with chestnut locks and colorful hair accessories. Oh well, it's a small world.

"Sorry for mistakenly taking your hoodie. I took it to the laundry room. By the way, these are adorable." She handed me the napkin cranes.

"Thanks, Kathryn. I guess you want this back too," I fished the polecat key chain out of my pocket.

Her face brightened. "Call me Kat." She cupped it in her palms, "I don't want to lose mom's gift. It saved my life several times."

Celine voiced our curiosity. "Kathryn… uh, Kat, how does it work?"

"It partially covers my half-blood scent so that I can avoid monsters. As I grow older it effect slowly wears off."

Protection from Hecate herself. Ashton's senses were right. It worked on satyrs too.

We continued our stroll around camp together. As the sky changed from gold to lilac then to velvety black, we headed to the amphitheater for the campfire sing-along. When we rounded the edge of the lake, Celine suddenly stepped into the water with her socks and sneakers on.

"What are you doing?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just- I feel like it."

Four, no, numerous pairs of eyeballs gaping at Celine. Fellow campers stopped midway to the amphitheater to watch. Instantly, we spotted a shimmering image a few inches above her head.

A hologram was taking shape. It was spinning and glowing bluish green in the dying light of twilight. The form was getting clearer - three pointed tips of a weapon.

A trident.

"HAIL, SISTER!"

A bunch of guys rushed over to Celine, wrapping her shoulder, wildly beckoning to their cabin mates, "Cabin Three! Over here!" More campers ran to the water edge to greet their new sibling.

Celine herself was screeching in ecstasy, "I'm claimed! Dad is Poseidon!"

I cracked a wide grin and gave her thumbs-up. The entire Cabin Three surrounded her and cheered like crazy, thronging the grounds towards the amphitheater.

Tonight, the campfire sparked golden and danced at least fifteen feet tall into the starry sky. The s'mores were passed around and the weirdly funny songs were sung. I didn't know the lyrics to them, but Apollo's cabin did a good job turning on the spirits. Hermes' and Ares' cabins shoved as many marshmallows as possible in their mouths for a friendly competition, and Cabin Eleven won. It was not until the conch horn that we retired to our respective cabins.

Celine now resided in Cabin Three, and Sonia helped me moved my backpack to Cabin Six. My brothers and sisters had saved me a top bunk, next to a window. On the wall where my bedhead met the bricks, the faint moonlight lit my memento photo of mom that I just glued on. My delightful mood lingered on, I didn't fall asleep right away. Staring at the ceiling, then at the photo, I couldn't stop smiling thinking about this eventful day.

I was home.


	4. Detention

The first few days at Camp Half-Blood were a blast. We quickly caught up with the camp routine. There were training sessions and ancient Greek lessons, along with a bunch of assorted elective activities for free times, so basically it was the same as school schedule. Except that, lame school periods were nowhere near as amusing. No elementary school taught sword fighting or archery or slaying monsters. Customary cabin inspection was every morning and afternoon, and camp chores were shared among cabins. Weekly Capture the Flag was on Friday evening, which new campers hadn't had the chance to compete in as it was not yet Friday. A day at camp always ended with the camp fire, frequently paired with a singalong.

I picked up Greek swiftly. Not to boast, but I managed to memorize the Greek alphabet after two mornings and read through some lines of Odyssey the next. Don't worry if you suck at any language at school. For us demigods, ancient Greek is etched into our brain as an instinct. Lessons were taught by some senior campers, usually from my Cabin Six, or Cabin Ten, sometimes Fourteen.

As for today, Sonia took me on while Malcolm did the cabin inspection. We chose to study outside on the strawberry field instead of our regular spot beside the canoe lake. Some tricksters from Hermes' cabin attempted to pull a breakneck prank that was reduced to a flaming canoe and the acrid smoke of melting plastic all over the shore. Convenient for me anyway. The sweet scent of ready-to-be-picked fruits created a pleasant workspace. I lay flat on my stomach, two feet swinging in the air, an opened copy of Odyssey in front of me. Sonia read aloud random lines for me to write down.

"Slow down, Sonia! I missed the last line."

Sonia was a good teacher, but she was so mean sometimes. She cracked a wicked grin. "Guess it."

"' _... peri d'hira theoisin, athanatoisin edoke... _ '. ' _ The immortal gods, who hold broad heaven' _ . So dictation for today?"

Malcolm had been sitting next to Sonia since gods-knew-when. A shirt was wrapped around his neck, apparently had been used as a mask against the horrible smell of Cabin Eleven's incident.

"Thanks, Mr I-know-it-by-heart," Sonia scrunched her nose, "don't take away Ellen's joy of learning."

Malcolm ignored her. "Thank the gods I can finally get away from the lake. They were too busy with the prank to care about cleaning up their own cabin. Again."

Hermes' cabin was often among the ones scoring the lowest for cabin inspection, hence Hermes campers were pretty familiar with kitchen patrol after dinner.

"Looks like it's settled who are doing the dishes today," Sonia checked her watch, "we can go through another dozen lines before Cabin Ten pick the strawberries.

I sat up and asked Malcolm, hopefully. "What's after my Greek session? If it's archery, I won't complain a thing."

"Found something you like, did you? Archery is great, but you'll learn javelin throwing today."

"When it comes to monsters, I thought arrows must be handier than javelins. Higher precision and stuff."

"C'mon, it's a dead useful skill, that's why you learn it at camp. And it's fun." He pulled the wraparound shirt up to cover his nose and mouth again, "talking about arrows, I've got to help Chiron setting up the archery range. Don't be late for the javelin lesson. See you there."

So when Aphrodite's cabin members showed up for their duty, Sonia and I cleared out of the field. Making for the arena, I saw some Ares kids also on their way there. I knew they were from Cabin Five, because Sherman Yang, their counselor, could easily be identified with his jagged dark hair and sullen face. Training with the most aggressive campers could be, well, quite anxious. And for me this time, troublesome.

Javelin throwing is basically throwing the long, thin stick either as far as possible or to hit a target. A classic Olympic sport. Sounds easy, but it's not.

Before doing anything else, newbies were told to study the javelin. No need for practicing yet, merely learning the concept first, which was kinda demanding for ADHD youngsters. Many couldn't help bouncing on the balls of their feet or poking each other with the blunt end of the javelin while listening to a senior Ares camper explaining the history of the sport since ancient times. I committed to focusing but it was _ harddddd _ to not let my mind drifting here and there. Because of Cabin Eleven's burnt canoe, we all had to wear something as a mask, but the leftover stench was still detectable through the sweater obscuring half my face. I switched the javelin between my hands so my itchy fingers wouldn't yank it away.

For the first few minutes, my little distraction worked. My hands escalated speed with each switch. Then the javelin slipped away from my palms, fell to the ground and almost clashed with someone several feet away from me. That someone was from Cabin Five. He said nothing but gave me a disgusted look and scooted farther away.

I had to find another way to release my ADHD energy. I broke from the crowd to start throwing the javelin by myself. No one noticed.

The javelin was quite heavy for me to make a good aim for the dummy. All attempts were missed. Growing impatient, I threw the next javelin with all my might.

That was when the trouble started.

The javelin stroke, not a dummy, but a person. Ironically, he was the one almost have taken my javelin minutes ago. The celestial bronze had scratched his right arm, leaving a thin cut on his bicep.

"Sorry! Are you OK?"

Too late, he was already livid. "What's wrong with you, four eyes?" In a flash, he used his own javelin to buckle me down. My face would have kissed the earth if one of my brothers hadn't caught me in time.

"She said sorry already!" He pushed the Ares kid away. Caught off guard, he stumbled and collided with a few other Cabin Five members.

Soon they made their way over, muttering something in Greek, pretty sure curses. The two cabins started shouting at each other. I had barely got up on my feet when I was smacked down again along with five or six siblings. My glasses were knocked out of my reach. Sonia's voice floated somewhere among the crowd while I was scouring frantically for them, "What's going on?"

Her question sank in the clamor - the volume of voices hollering and weapons clanking grew louder. Through blurry eyes, I made out the outline of the two lots of campers inching nearer. When I finally put my glasses on and was able to see properly, the two cabins had merged into one mass.

The rest of the lesson was mayhem.

Half of the campers in the arena were fighting, the majority were the thirteen or fourteen-year-olds. The older ones struggled to prevent them from killing each other, while the younger ones bundled in a corner watching with nervous eyes. I was dragged out of the way just in time to hear a whirring overhead. The off course javelin pierced the head of a straw dummy's, which could have been mine if Sonia had acted just a split second later. She spotted Sherman Yang helplessly trailing after some guys from his cabin, the shirt-mask dangling on his neck.

"Yang, do something with your own members!" She yelled at him.

"Don't you see I'm trying!?"

Malcolm dashed to our place, one hand herding the two youngest of Athena's cabin towards Sonia, the other rubbing his left shoulder. He must have taken an astray blow.

"We're done with this. I'm fetching Chiron. You all, uh... try not to get slashed."

Moments later, Chiron arrived with the bow and quiver still strapped to his back. He was in the middle of an archery session.

"What have you been-" His sentence was cut off as he dodged a bunch of straw. "Could you all  _ please _ stop?"

He stomped his hooves for attention. His appearance swept the commotion away effectively. Everyone present in the arena ended their fight, but the tension kept hanging in the air.

Chiron had always been an amiable activities director, but camp rules were rules. Yeah, you guessed it. Ares' cabin had to clean the pegasus stables, and we had kitchen patrol with Hermes' cabin after dinner. Of course both cabins were responsible for the condition of the arena too.

When the arena was back to how it was in the early morning, it was already lunchtime. We dragged ourselves to the pavilion, tattered and exhausted, with every other cabin goggling at us. Celine caught me while I was busy brushing the straw off my hair.

"What was so urgent that Malcolm had to interrupt our archery lesson? Oh my gods... did you guys pick fight with the craft day's dolls?"

Southwood's craft day (which was included in our curriculum so as to "enhance our creativity") took place a few months ago. There was a period when we were guided to make dolls from straw. Mind you, those dolls were nasty. Voodoo dolls might have been much less painful to look at than those dreadful craps.

"Not with them," I plucked a strand of straw out of my ponytail, "long story.  _ Di Immortales _ ... we have to do the dishes with Hermes' cabin. Urg, cleaning up starves me so terribly I could eat a pegasus."

For the rest of the day, Cabin Five and Cabin Six put as much distance between each other as possible. Luckily we had no other mutual lessons for the day.

The kitchen duty was not as bad as expected. At least there were two cabins sharing the work. To make it more enjoyable in some way, Cabin Eleven showed us how to make a waterfall, or lavafall, from the pots and pans and the lava used for cleaning them. Still better than the worst lesson ever since I came to camp.

And when one of Hermes' sons asked me about it, I just gave him a shrug, plunging my gloved hands into the lava, "I am for earnest NOT selecting a javelin as my weapon of choice."


End file.
